Chains On Us Both
by idevourbooks
Summary: Lucy has been passed around like an unwanted toy from one slave holder to the next, and is losing faith in the words her mother once told her. Then, at an auction, a mysterious, pink haired boy buys her and is more than what he seems - and the whispers of dragons only grow louder with each day she spends with him.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! I know what you're thinking, 'why are you starting another story?' 'What is possessing you to do this to yourself since you still have so much to update?' 'How insane are you?' 'Do you enjoy drinking Jarritos?' (The answer is yes to that last one.) But let me just say, that this story will be the bosses sauce because I say it will be and I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Of course it isn't the most interesting chapter (it's the first chapter, for Mavis's sake), but I have a few hidden hints in this chapter as to what's coming up in the storyline of this piece of work, so keep an eye out for that...**

**WARNING: This is rated T for a reason! This will have some violence, a good amount of cusses that'll make you say, 'I am going to use that line on that chick I hate!', and will be lovey dovey up to the point that I may have to change the rating! ****(If I'm feeling up to it, then maybe XD) So take HEED LITTLE KIDDIES! **

**ENJOY!**

**Chapter One**

It was dark. So dark, I could practically feel it hanging over me like a blanket wrapped snug, yet the little light that seeped through the cracks of the trap door above me was still enough for me to make out the figures of the people moaning in pain around me.

Like me, the clothing on their backs were close to nothing, torn in every place possible to just keep the articles from slipping off, and just like me, they too were only skin and bones – some's condition worse than others. I unconsciously place a shackled hand up to feel just underneath my chest, allowing my frail fingers to trace the outline of my ribcage before frowning and allowing my hand to fall back onto my lap, confused as to why I was so conscience of my appearance and health if no one else cared.

My stomach churns with another unsteady lurch of the rotting floorboards beneath me, and a chorus of cries and moans respond in agony. The sounds of a few people puking sound throughout the room and I simply scrunch up my nose at the smell, unlike a few who join in with their own fits of barfing. The rocking of this damned ship was already abusive to our weak bodies, but add on the stench that hung in the air around us, that wretched miasma of old piss and watery puke, and everyone was bound to grow sick to their stomachs – especially if you were a new one.

I don't get that sick though, if anything, I've actually grown accustomed to this torture chamber of a life style. I mean, I've been here for at least six months and counting, though I don't know the exact amount for I stopped creating notches in the sides of the ship a long time ago when the traders found the small whittling knife hidden in my terrible excuse for a bra. Last time I counted the small, jagged notches there were 127, and with all of the days that have passed from then… I'm positive I haven't seen the sun in at least 180 days – 181 if I were to be precise.

Over those months I've seen people like me get on and off of this ship, each staying wordless as they're either shackled to the wall or dragged one behind the other in a line, a simple iron chain connected to their cuffs to keep them together as they struggle to walk up the stairs to the outside.

The outside… I wonder how it's going.

Ever since the so called 'dragons' (though no one has actually _seen_ one before) came, stuff has been more than messed up with our lifestyle – or at least, that's what I heard one of the merchants say. The whispers of the god-like, mythical creatures have been gossiped between slave holders during the slave auctions I was forced to be a part of over the years, as that was the buzz lately throughout the entirety of the human race.

Everyone was worrying about the end of the world as we know it to be due to these monstrous beasts and recounting back on stories they've heard of people losing their homes and money, becoming mere scum in moments as a dragon suddenly sweeps in and takes everything from a town or village. I have to bite my tongue most of the time as this felt no different as to what they were doing to me and my people – stripping us of every right and every belonging we have before forcing us into manual work labor with no profit. It was basically the same concept, and yet when _they_ were doing it, _humans _were doing it, it apparently wasn't bad.

I try to rack my mind of a time when I knew what the shoes of a commoner sliding onto my feet felt like or what it felt like to have dresses of all different silks placed onto my frame that people knew was of nobility, and yet no such moments in my life come to mind as I can only dig up memories of working in the fields of different plantation farms and the horrid memories of torture and death. This then reminds me that everything was stolen away from me before anyone even knew of my existence, as I was born into this 'business'.

I, Lucy (apparently slaves weren't supposed to have a surname – or a name at all for that matter, though my mother refused to call me 'Slave 777'), was born into this horrible life, never getting the chance to have a proper education or having clean clothes or being paid or being able to do _anything_ really, since I was just mere scum. I was an object, something that was to be passed from one greedy pair of hands to the next as I was nothing – just an item with a price tag clipped to my back. I was replaceable, insignificant, and there may have been a time when I thought I wasn't just some tool that when broken could easily be interchanged for another one, but those times a far behind me as haunting memories forever lurk in the back of my mind.

Memories that cause a wave of relief to wash over me as the usually heart-stopping, familiar creak of the trap door opening sounds from overhead and the thought of watching the trader's pick us out like pigs calms me instead of causing me to internally sneer with disgust as my face remains impassive on the outside, since this gave my mind the window to focus on a different problem at hand. I intently watch the handful of well-fed men clomp down the wooden stairs to the area of the ship's cellar where the majority of us were kept, and observe their motives as to what kind of slave they were searching for today as they sifted through the dark room, the preponderance of their grabbing obviously aimed towards the young women today as every young lady they spotted had their cuffs transferred onto the long, iron chain almost immediately.

I can feel my breathing pick up speed slightly as they begin to near my area, searching for more women, and I slowly let my head hang to make my golden bangs cover more of my face so they hopefully won't think to come near me as this worked every time, but I can feel my chest tighten with anxiety as the sounds of the floor boards creaking in front of me ring eerily into my ears before suddenly stopping. The sight of one of their grubby hands comes into view as they firmly grasp my chin, forcefully lifting my head up to face their sweaty, porky face that had amusement and a strong sense of smug radiating off of his beady eyes.

"Well hello there, Jewel bringer," he mumbles deeply so only I can hear, and I was already feeling violated by his eyes roaming around my body.

I narrow my eyes at him coldly, allowing a spiteful sneer to spread across my face as I spit in his eye, causing him to jerk back in surprise before he turns a tomato red. He violently transfers my cuffs from the wall to the chain where the other girls were, not even giving me the chance to get up on my own before he digs his fat fingers into my forearm, hauling me to my feet.

"I hope the man who gets you puts you in your place the harsh way, you little piece of shit," he hisses into my ear before shoving me forward and I let out a small huff of agitation, pushing down the need to kick him in the groin as I follow the girls in front of me to the stairs and onto the deck of the ship.

The outside was dark and gloomy, with thick, angry clouds bickering overhead and a light drizzle falling from them onto our barely protected bodies, causing me to shiver slightly as the rain was mixing with the chill the wind left behind on my skin, making me feel soaked to the bone. Mighty waves pound against not only the boat, but the dock we were at, causing everything to sway uneasily back and forth. I could only watch as some of the girls in front of me were falling like dominos as they could barely walk from not using their legs for so long, and the undulation of the creaky boat was not helping them one bit. I was having a little trouble walking myself, my feet barely gripping the slimy floorboards as they slid back and forth with the ship, but I refused to fall and look like a circus act in front of these animals that filled the deck.

The deck was filled to the brim with tons of different slave holders fat and thin, that all stared at us with a mixture of greed and disgust gleaming in their eyes. Hooters and hollers were escaping their lips along with repulsive comments that were being thrown our way, and I remain unresponsive to their words, not making the moves to even glance their way as I know it would only cause me more trouble – having gone through these situations on more than one occasion – though the poor girl in front of me obviously wasn't as experienced.

The girl was about my age, with ratty, silver hair that was cut unevenly at her jawline and wide brown eyes that were glued onto her face as she whipped her head around back and forth, glancing at the men with horror and fear painted across her tense features. The men simply laugh at her, trying even harder to scare her and getting a kick out of her frightened squeals as they almost jump on the pitiful girl.

A wave of sympathy overcomes me as I feel myself step in, glaring dangerously at the men who tried to jeer her on and watch as they back up a little, glaring challengingly at me. I simply sneer at them as I narrow my gaze at them, never breaking their stare as I lean in towards the girl in front of me who was looking at me in awe, before muttering under my breath, "Ignore them – that's the only way they'll leave you alone."

I glance at her, my eyes meeting her wide ones as she slowly gulps, nodding at me prior to opening her mouth to say something, until being cut off by the barking of one of the buffer slave holders standing on a barrel (that I'm surprised hasn't broken in half yet under his weight).

"You girls will be on your best behavior!" He hollers deeply, his beady, red eyes glaring menacingly at us as veins pop out of his bald skull furiously, along with the spit and sweat flinging off of him onto us, "You are to come when called, and act like the obedient little bitches you are! If you try to act like a wolf and not like a good little doggy, and try to bite one of us, trust me when I say you will have a horrible punishment coming your way! Don't try anything, because we will be on you things like the alphas we are! Now," he says, a loathsome scowl spreading across his face, "keep quiet and bring us some money!"

A fit of cheers come from the horde of slave holders, while the girls on the chain with me remain silent, a few casting nervous glances to one another. The buff man takes in the scene with a smug expression painted across his face before hopping off of his makeshift pedestal down to the first slave on the chain. He motions for her to continue walking and she quickly obeys, guiding the rest of us down an unsteady, rotting plank leading from the ship to the wet, slippery stones of the town's vacant port.

I glance around and spot a decaying, wooden sign hanging off of the side of a building, stating, '_**Welcome to Hargeon Port Town**_' in fancy, script letters. I feel myself unconsciously gulp as I rack my brain for information on this town, and I realize this isn't exactly a 'good' place.

I've in fact heard about this town – it was famous for its slave auctions and many came from far and wide just to see them. People were most savage during Hargeon's events and slave holders were thrilled to gain a spot in the 'shows' as the people here paid well if the selection was… well… women.

Disgusting, I know, and I don't know if I should be lucky I know how to read (courtesy of my mother, of course) in this moment since now I have more fear to choke down in order to remain seemingly unruffled to those around me.

This was going to be one Hell of a show.

We cease our walking on the damp cobblestones as we near the back entrance to a large building, going through the doorway one by one into the structure, transferring our shivering bodies from the rain into a badly lit room that was about as big as a large carriage. There was another door to the right that looked as if it melded into the wooden walls, leading to God knows where, and the girls were all lined up in a tight zigzag, taking up the entire space the room had to offer with the first girl standing right in front of the door that seemed to be a wall and me with my back against the door we came from.

The buff man from before stood directly in front of the poor, first girl and he slightly opens the door near them, saying incoherent words to a person on the outside. He then closes the door and unchains the first from the line, smiling widely as he grabs her roughly and shoves her out the door.

The rest of us watch as he keeps the door open a bit with his ear pressed up against the crack, hearing what was going on in the room the girl just appeared in. He seemed not to be that happy with what he was hearing as he barbarically grabs the second in line, and shoves her out just as roughly. This went on for a long time until it was only just the silver haired girl in front of me, the fuming buff man, and myself in the room.

I had my eyes closed as I leaned against the wall next to me, listening intently to the sounds of the room I was to enter with anxiety bubbling within me, as the sounds of men yelling crazy amounts of Jewels just barely reaches my ears. I feel as if this was a death sentence, since it basically was. Everything that would ever happen to me would always seem like the end, since it was never what I wanted.

Like in this moment, I want to hide away under a rock somewhere, I want to run away, I want no part in this, and I _don't_ want to relive an auction again. I_ don't_ want to go home with some fat noble man and I _don't_ want to be bought – I _don't _want to believe that I am only an object. I never get what I want or don't want though, if that's not obvious enough already, since I am nothing. My opinions and needs aren't valued nor needed, apparently, so nothing is ever in my favor really – if anything, I'm just a simple fly on the wall to some rich, fat man.

I allow a small sigh to escape me as I slowly let my thoughts leave me as my mind focuses on the amounts of Jewels being bid as they reach into the hundred thousands for the girl out there now, and I feel the girl in front of me shaking with fear. I crack an eye open and glance at her, watching as her short, silver hair trembles in the candlelight and her wide, brown orbs bounce from one object to the next like a hyperactive rabbit.

I can recall a time when I was in her position, when I was scared and unsure as to what was going to come my way, and when I needed someone to help me through troublesome times. It was one of my first auctions that I can remember, and I was up next for showing, just like her, and the emotions that were running through me were so alert and twisted, it was almost as if I felt like I was going to die from myself. I knew that everyone in the room felt the same way as me, but my mother was surprisingly good at hiding it, and she was the one who guided me through it.

My mother was in my position, and I was in the position of the girl in front of me now.

I can feel myself unconsciously place a shackled up hand to her quivering shoulder, causing the girl to jumps as she whips her head around to face me, her frightened eyes staring into mine. A tiny, warm smile graces my face and I begin to rub comforting circles on her shoulder as I whisper to her, "Calm down, you don't want them to see this side of you, trust me. One day, you'll get what reward you deserve, but for now, you need to take the blows as they come with a straight face. You'll be okay, trust me, just stay calm and everything will fall into place."

The girl's eyes search mine and I can only nod encouragingly at her, hoping that she will take my advice so she doesn't end up with the worst possible outcome, which is become the laughing stock and hate your life even more. I watch as her shaking slowly stops and her eyes flicker behind a calm façade that we both knew was fake, but was vital for her to make it through this moment in time.

She smiles back at me and I feel horrible that I couldn't do more for her, yet glad knowing that she would make it. The slave trader suddenly grasps her arms and unchains her from the line as he holds her in front of the door, giving her enough time to mouth, 'thank you,' to me before shoving her out the door. A small bud of warmth blooms in my chest, but it's cut short as he then tugs the chain forward, causing me to lose my footing, but I quickly regain it before touching the buff, red-eyed man.

I watch as he purposely puffs his chest out and towers over me as if to get a reaction out of me, but I simply meet his eyes lazily as a ton of alarms go off in my head, all screaming, 'DANGER'. He sneers at me and I raise an eyebrow at him, amusing him while at the same time listening to how the silver haired girl was doing in there, hearing a lot of shouts of different bids on her. She seemed to be holding up alright and it sounded as if they respected her (unlike the rest of the girls, to which they were giving inappropriate comments to – making the poor girls uncomfortable), which was good since it was the exact opposite of what I didn't want happening to her.

"SOLD! For 650,000 Jewels to Bidder 996!"

A sickening, yellowing grin spreads across the buff man's face and I gulp as he unchains my cuffs from the line, but instead of allowing him to rough handle me like he did to the other girls, I slip past him onto the wooden platform I was to appear on, walking with my head held high and my entire body emotionless. I can hear his cusses from where I stood center stage as I gaze out at the full room of men in front of me, who were drinking and laughing, and all staring at the entertainment – me.

Next to me, the auctioneer is already beginning his short rant on what I looked like – long blonde hair, brown eyes, et cetera – and from the corner of my eye, I spot something unusual… pink.

I let my eyes travel to where I spotted the foreign color, and my heart practically stops as my brown eyes meet sharp onyx ones. A man that looks to be about my age stood there, leaning carelessly with his tan arms crossed over his brawny chest against the wooden pillar, with nothing but a thin, white shirt to cover his muscular torso and black leather pants that ended in short, black ankle boots.

He stood out from the rest of the men there, and it wasn't just because the hair on his head was spiky and pink, but because he seemed to be poor like a pauper, unlike the rest of the noble men who were draped with possibly every article of fine jewelry and silks they owned. Probably the only thing that was expensive was the ivory, scaly scarf wound around his neck, and I hate to admit it, but he intrigued me ever so slightly by the way his eyes met mine in a different way than the rest of the men there. He didn't seem to hold the same intentions as them – his eyes weren't filled with lust nor disgust, but simply just plain curiosity, and if I were to squint, I could almost swear there was sympathy and worry mixed in with his over pooling eyes of curiosity and mystery.

So yes, I guess you can say I was intrigued.

"Starting the bidding at 30,000 Jewels," the auctioneer announced.

His ebony stare never wavers from mine as people begin shouting different amounts of Jewels at the auctioneer, each amount higher than the last. The auctioneer repeats back to the horde of men every price that's thrown his way rapidly and the numbers increase drastically and quickly, causing my insides to twist in an unpleasant manner.

I keep my gaze focused on him, though, knowing that the questions that were floating through my mind were reflected in my eyes, practically written out on paper for his reading. I also know that he was taking into consideration every question I had, from the, '_what are your intentions?_' to the '_why are you so different from the rest?_', but he just wasn't answering. Instead, he just simply narrows his eyes at me, almost as if he were thinking – about what? Only Mavis knows, but those eyes that told me everything, also hid so much from my view.

"754,000 Jewels!"

I feel my breath hitch in my throat at the auctioneer's words, _that much money?_ I glance away from his eyes for a second, trying to see who bid that _much_ money, to see a fat, porky man with a sliding toupee on his sweaty head and a distasteful mustache, puffing his chest out with pride and his eyes rejoicing as they roamed my body.

I swear to Mavis, I almost barfed up the nothing in my stomach.

"Can I get a 755,000? No? 754,000 going once…"

My eyes dart back to the mysterious man who was currently raising a questioning eyebrow at me, as if asking what I wanted him to do. I feel myself gulp as my eyes jump back and forth from the porky mess to the amused man as I can practically feel my seconds slipping away from me like grains of sand through my fingers.

"… going twice…"

Oh Mavis, I can already imagine how horrible being that man's slave will be. He seems to be a massive pervert judging from the way he is eyeing me, and I know someone out there is just laughing in my face at this moment. This was all a joke, wasn't it? To someone out there, this was a comedy – my life was hilarious to watch, wasn't it?

"… going three times…"

I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, waiting for the words that would be my end – the oh-so-familiar '_sold_'… but they never come, as resounding throughout the now silent room are the words that cause everyone to freeze. My eyes widen and I stare in shock at the pink haired man, the man whose voice is still ringing in my ears.

"One million Jewels."

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so that was pretty intense, yet I am so excited to write this like the rest of my new stories! Please follow, favorite, or leave your thoughts and comments in the review section (constructional criticism is in fact accepted)! They really do inspire me to write! And I know there's probably some of you who are reading this and waiting for me to post an update for one of my other stories, (I am truly sorry for those who are being so patient with me!) but I'm dealing with massive writer's block for 'Waiting Here', so please just wait a bit longer! I will update as soon as I can and trust me when I say that 'Creatures in the Dark' is coming up right after it! I'll try to keep you updated as best as I can, my fabulous potatoes!**

**Peace!**

**-idevourbooks**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**I have no excuse - this chapter is WAY over due! I cannot apologize enough! I have no right to even ask for your forgiveness, but (here I go, being a dumbass again) pLEASE FIND THAT PLACE IN YOUR HEART TO FORGIVE AND FORGET AND JUST...**

**ENJOY!**

**Chapter Two**

My breath catches in the back of my throat.

_Did…did he just say…?_

My gaze remains glued onto his own; his ebony eyes alit with amusement against my shaky brown irises. My mind was at a complete blank, making me utterly dumbfounded as I remained frozen to my spot on stage with a slackened jaw. I didn't care if my well-practiced façade was dropped in that moment for it seemed that all of the other men in the room held my same reaction; some even choking on the beer they were chugging moments before, but everyone was staring at the man who voiced the bid.

They were all staring at the stranger who just bought me for one million Jewels.

The auctioneer is the first to recover, patting the sweat from his shaved brow with a stained handkerchief before clearing his throat to yell in an uneven voice, "S-sold to the young man in the b-back!"

His obvious announcement manages to sluggishly drag everyone back to the task at hand, causing the stunned crowd to turn their attention over to the stage with a grumble passing over the sea of suspicious men who, like me, were wondering if the young man truly had the money he claimed to have. He appeared no wealthier than a pauper – as to how he had one million Jewels was truly a mystery.

_Unless he lied… _I search his eyes for any sign of misconception, for any mischief lurking beneath the surface of the midnight pools, but there was nothing of the sort. I only found what I would have never expected to find in the eyes of my new master – qualities of a good man. _You know what they say, though, Lucy - looks can be deceiving…_

"Slave," I hear a man croak and glance over my shoulder at the bald, scrawny auctioneer, who pointed with a skeletal pinky to a hidden door similar to the one I appeared through on the right of the stage. I then shut my gaping mouth with a gulp and glance at my new master, our eyes connecting once more until I reluctantly tear my stare away – a feeling I couldn't quite place my finger on bubbling within me.

Mechanically, I move to leave the stage at the man's request, turning on my heel to scurry towards the wall opposite of the one I entered through – my act completely replaced with questions bombarding my mind. Questions that I was asking myself when I really should be voicing them to my new master since I obviously did not have the answers as to why he bought me out of all of the girls; nor did I know why he bid so much money on a slave like me. I do not know why he would want me; I was no prettier than any of the other girls and there were many who were much stronger than me. There must have been something else… as to what that 'something' was, I have no idea. My mind only conjured up stories and lies that I could pass off as 'the truth' if I repeated it to myself enough times, while the man who bought me_ knows_ the truth.

The screeching of the panel flinging wide open when I'm a mere meter away drags me out of my thoughts, surprising me as a massive hand shoots out from the opening to grasp my chained wrists and tug me stumbling into the room with a squeak. The door slams shut behind me and I am hurled forcefully by my aching wrists into a few of my fellow on-looking slaves packed into the tight room, who squeal in surprise as I send them tumbling in a mess of intertwined limbs to the ground with me. I begin to mutter an apology under my breath to the groaning girls beneath me when I feel a hand weave itself into my hair, forcing me onto my feet as I flinch at the pain sprouting at my strained roots holding me up.

"How," a deep voice mutters darkly into my ear, "are _you _worth a million Jewels?" I crack an eye open to gaze at the source of the voice, my eyes falling upon the overweight slave holder who had picked me for showing before I spat in his eye. A crazed gleam now shone in his calculating orbs as they trailed up and down my body, leaving me to feel defiled under his scrutiny. I dully note that his grip was slipping slightly on my head due to his excessively sweaty palms, making me cringe in detestation.

"It has to be for your body, right?" He mumbles more to himself than me, "I mean; any man in the right mind would want to take a girl's innocence since they're so tight down there – untouched by another… especially you, I mean, look at the tits on ya," His appalling, foul language sends a shudder down my spine that I know is out of disgust, but am positive he mistakes it for pleasure. He brings me closer to him so that he forced my entire front to be touching his and that the stench of alcohol radiating off of him stung the inside of my nostrils, "Well, that boy's got another thing coming… I've always wanted to test out my product before selling it."

My blood becomes icy while my eyes widen in realization – he was going to force himself upon me. Before I can react, he throws me carelessly against the wall as if I were a wasted bottle of gin; the sound of my head banging loudly against the paneling echoes throughout the room along with the other slaves' gasps, acting as the usual burst of glass. I feverishly try to blink the patches of black out of my vision that were forming due to the impact, but he doesn't give me any time to recover as one of his grubby hands reaches out to grope my breast. I weakly slap his hand away, feeling somewhat drained as I mumble out, "No."

He snickers, entertained by my endeavors that we both knew were in vain, and grabs the short chain connecting my cuffed wrists together, tugging it against my will to hang on a hook aloft of me. A wave of panic crashes over me as I glare up at my binds suspending me slightly off of the floor, anxiety beginning to bubble deep down in the pit of my stomach. I attempt to tug my hands back down from their place high above my head, but to no avail as I only end up tearing the fair skin of my wrists, wincing as trails of scarlet sluggishly slide down my arms. I feel his repulsive presence loom over me and watch, helpless, as he ogles my breasts prior to groping me through my clothing, bile rising in my throat as I fight the urge to puke.

"S-stop," I mutter, trying to level my voice as he trails a finger down from my breast valley to my navel, "_stop!_" I yell, shutting my eyes tight out of fear as I squirm against my restraints. I had heard of this happening before to slaves who misbehaved, but never would I have thought it would happen to me. I didn't draw attention to myself – I didn't rebel against my holders – so why was I the cursed one out of the lot?

The tearing of cloth reaches my ears and I know it's of my ratty clothing. I shut my eyes tight and let out a cry for help as he hooks a chubby finger in the waistband of my shorts, only to have it silenced by him shoving his tongue down my throat. I gag; the overpowering taste of whiskey and cigars sickening to my churning stomach. I then act on impulse and bite down hard on his tongue, feeling my teeth tear through his tongue's tender flesh. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and he jerks away from me, his eyes wide as he wipes the blood pouring from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You bitch!" He bellows, and in response I simply spit his blood at his feet. He growls, his rage cascading off of him in frantic ripples as he reels his fist back to throw a punch at me. I shut my eyes – the tears representing my unabated terror welled up in my chocolate pools spilling rivers down my cheeks in doing so – and turn my head to the side, gritting my teeth in anticipation for the blow that never comes. I wait a few moments in pure dread before slowly sliding my eyelids open just a sliver to see why there wasn't a bruise the size of his fat fist forming on my body, only to find the back of a messy head of salmon locks connected to the tawny body of a young man holding the slave holder's fist in his own hand – the hand of my new master.

"_Oi_," he mutters dangerously, his voice gravelly and gruff as he squeezes the fist clutched in his hand hard, "_she's mine._"

I fully open my eyes at his words, surprised at the raw emotion interlaced within his short declaration, until a lengthy string of popping followed by the slave holder's strained cries fills my ears. My eyes enlarge when he releases the man, the swine red in the face with fat tears rolling down his cheeks while falling to the floor, cradling his hand. I gasp, _did… did my new master just break his hand?_ _How did he do that? __**Why**__ did he do that? _

Then it dawns on me, _did he do it for me?_ I shake my head in denial; it was a preposterous idea. This… _man_ didn't even know the first thing about me – there is no possibility that he harmed another for me, risking his own well-being. He had no reason to for I was merely a slave – someone who was forced to labor underneath his strict hand. I should be reprimanded for even conjuring the silly idea up, much less surmising it.

I lose my train of thought, though, when the young man turns to face me, averting my gaze from the pained pig cowering on the floor to the face of my master. Up close, I was able to depict every detail – his jawline was strong, chin angular with soft cheekbones, and his nose was thin, vaguely bent, though, as if he had been in a number of quarrels (which wouldn't surprise me considering he just broke a man's hand with his brute strength). His lips were set in a thin line, his eyebrows were the same shade of his hair (proving that his exotic locks were not tampered with), and his skin was tanned – hinting at his foreign ethnicity. My eyes landed last on his onyx pair, the intensity of them amplified due to the fact that his face was solely a few inches away from mine.

He meets my stare and his eyes soften, something that somewhat calms my heart hammering in my chest (and causes me to second guess my earlier thoughts) as he reaches up to lift the chain of my cuffs off of the hook it was on. I seethe as he does; the act of stretching my limbs even more to get free sends searing pain through them until there is only release as they grow slack, my arms falling to my sides again. I stumble on my feet a bit, suddenly weak in the knees, before regaining my balance and letting out a relieved sigh, ignoring the trickles of blood slipping into the palms of my hands.

My master gently takes my shackled wrists into his hands and lifts them to his chest, frowning at the streaks of currant that marred my pale skin. "Come," he says to me, releasing my wrists to hold my elbow as he guides me through the sea of slaves to a door, "we need to get you out of here."

He pushes open the door, revealing a somber sky and allowing a cold gust of wind to billow into the room, sending shivers through me. I catch him peek back at me with his brows furrowed before continuing to coax me forward, further exposing me to the frigid weather. I glimpse from the rain pouring heavily from the dark sky to the man in front of me, hesitantly placing one foot shakily in front of the other in pursuit. My bare feet come in contact with slick cobblestones as I crossover the threshold of the building and I let out a shaky breath, not prepared for the droplets that pound against my shaking frame.

In less than a minute I am soaked – my master not seeming to be faring off any better as he leads me through the narrow, intertwining streets of Hargeon with his loose, cotton shirt sticking to his muscular torso and ivory scarf whipping in the wind. Thankfully, no one was out in this weather – only the insane would dare to step foot in this (which reflects poorly on our mentality) – so we get to our destination fairly easy.

Master makes a sharp turn into an alley, hurrying down it before stopping in front of a sturdy, ivory horse tethered to a rotting pipe hanging from the side of a tall building where they waited at the end of it for us. He then releases his hold on me to give the mighty animal speckled with slate splotches a nice rub and I cannot help but notice the small smile that dances along his lips upon seeing the beast whose midnight eyes light up in turn.

I look on contently, though I do so with numbing extremities and chattering teeth – I was hardly protected from the chilling autumn rain. My rags acting for a flimsy tank and shorts (that were already littered with holes from old age) now sported fresh tears from the barbaric buffoon that had tried to molest me. He had torn a long gash down the center of my withering shirt – leaving it as a vest that revealed my bandage-swathed breasts he had grabbed at along with my grime-caked, goosebump-filled stomach – and left few rips along the waistband of my bottoms. Originally, I wouldn't have had as many places on my body for the buckets of water to fall upon, but now it was as if I was strutting in the nude.

Master glances over thoughtfully at me before reaching into one of the many saddle bags strung on the horse and pulling out a thick cloak resembling a velvety, obsidian sea. He tenderly reaches over to place the massive wrap on my shoulders (which immediately sag at the added heavy weight for the cloak was considerably larger compared to my malnourished frame) and envelopes me comfortably within the soft material. He even goes as far as tugging the hood over my head, my eyes widening at the simple action. He smiles warmly at me, "Now you won't be cold anymore."

I gulp, silently thanking whoever was watching over me for the cloak being a bit too big so that the hood hid my heating face from his intense gaze (that I hoped was not currently directed upon me, but it was as if I could physically feel his stare). I was blushing profoundly out of embarrassment at the fact that he even noticed I was freezing, and manage to only nod at him – not trusting my vocal ability at the moment.

"This here is Ash," He pats the neck of the horse and I glance up to see him staring at me, a devious look reflected in his dark orbs, "and you shall consider him as your steed for the time being. Now," he cocks his head towards the animal with a smirk tugging at his lips, "get on."

I almost choke on my own spit, "_What?_" I ask, completely bewildered by his request.

"Get on," he repeats more firmly this time, his authoritative tone reminding me of his superiority over me.

My eyes dart unsurely between the two; I have never ridden a horse before. I also have never disobeyed any of my masters. I did not know this one – I did not know how he would react, and I surely do not wish to find out. I nervously wet my lips, my eyes locking with the stallion's oblivious ones prior to locking with the orbs of salmon-haired man before me. I purse my lips together, asking the first question that comes to mind, "What about you?"

He huffs out an airy chuckle, "I'll lead. Now," he gestures towards the empty, leather saddle, "get on."

I gulp, not wanting to defy him any longer, and reach up through the slit of the cloak to grip the saddle. There was no stirrup, so I have to rely on my upper body strength to heave myself up, but as months of malnutrition would result in, my arms held no muscle. I was skin and bones, making it physically impossible for me to pull myself onto the animal. I keep trying though, sweat forming on my brow and my skinny arms burning as I know my efforts are in vain – my feet didn't even leave the ground.

I can feel his stare on me during the entirety of my hassle, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as my struggling sustains itself until a large hand places itself on my shoulder, warming me through the thick layer of fabric to bring me to a halt. I glance over my shoulder to peek at the owner of the extremity, my eyes immediately falling upon the frown gracing the softened jaw of Master. A jab of humiliation shoots through me at his reaction.

I turn back around, not wishing to see his disapproval any longer only to have him whisper into my ear, "Let me help you," his voice unexpectedly gentle for a man who I thought was to be disappointed. Before I can oblige to his request, his strong hands cup themselves underneath my arms and swiftly whisk me atop of the back of the horse, a tiny squeak escaping my lips at the action.

The moment my body touches the saddle, Ash lurches forward, causing me to quickly reach out on impulse and grasp the hand that just left me to balance myself on the unsteady creature. I feel the warm extremity tense up in my hold and glance up with wide eyes from my stare trained on the horse to the intense eyes of my new master that stared right back. I avert my gaze from his unreadable one to my pale hand clasping his larger one, my face blanching as I realize what I just did – I touched a superior. Intentional or not, I've learned from past experiences that the punishments for doing so were as horrid as showing disobedience, and as to how he would react… I have no idea.

Nervously licking my lips, I slacken my grip on his hand and pull away, letting my hand fall to clutch the saddle with my other hand. I keep my eyes glued to my hand still feeling traces of his warmth within its fingertips and gulp, muttering, "S-sorry… I-I didn't mean t-to…" I let my sentence trail off, knowing he knew what I meant and await my punishment – for him to hit me across the face like many others had done in the past, or even push me off the horse and force me to crawl instead.

To my astonishment, though, he does neither. Rather, he reaches for the reigns and turns curtly on his heel, leading us down the alley. I curiously look up at him, watching him stop at the end of the alley before glancing both ways down the street, the motion causing water from his drenched, salmon locks to whip at his face. He was strange with that hair and those ebony eyes… he didn't seem to be like any other master I have ever had. And it wasn't just due to his looks – it was also the way he acted. He appeared to care – he told me to ride his horse and helped me on afterwards. He didn't even bat an eye at my touch – not even moving to discipline me. Unless… _is he waiting to punish me? _

He begins to shuffle forward and I feel the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them, "Will my punishment be given at our destination?"

He freezes in his spot at my words, "_Punishment?_" He sputters out as if he had never heard of the word before. I hear him attempt to silence his chuckles overtaking his form as he glances over his shoulder at me, announcing, "No, there will be no punishment, trust me. Besides," his brows furrow as he incredulously mumbles more to himself than to me, "why would I want harm one as beautiful as yourself?"

He turns back around as if his words held no meaning, yet I, on the other hand, can't fight the blush crawling from my neck to my cheeks at his words. _Beautiful…? Me?! He must be mistaken,_ I think to myself, my heart now pounding in my chest. I press a hand to my cheek to make sure I wasn't overheating, but quickly remove it from my face to clutch the saddle as we roughly round a corner, the gentlest of chatters being picked up by my ears.

We shuffle down another path, the once soft sounds of conversation becoming louder to reveal the voices of numerous boisterous, intoxicated men. Continuing down the alley, Master makes one final turn into the town's square where my eyes fall upon the source of all the noise – the nobles who attended the auction with their freshly bought slaves in tow. Many of the men held their slaves' chains in their hands, though some had another servant do it. Many rake their greedy eyes over their newly bought products while some even go as far as moving to spank the girls' bottoms or run their filthy hands over their bodies.

I feel a frown carve itself onto my face as I witness one man in particular, a large-nosed fellow draped in gold, who chains three scrawny girls to the saddle of his ink horse before proceeding to mount the beast. My hands ball as the man digs his heels sharply into the sides of the horse, causing the animal to lurch forward while the girls crash to the floor. They're then dragged quickly across the street, their shrieks of pain burning in my mind along with the sound of skin tearing on stone. The man decides after a few meters of his torture to pull back on the reigns, obvious mirth escaping the sadist's lips in the form of a resounding chortle while tears streak down the scraped-up girls' cheeks. My jaw tightens as I swallow the bile gathering in my throat.

I don't realize I was staring until the man catches me, meeting my stare with a hard, crazed one that spoke levels of the danger in the air surrounding him. With a faint gasp, I hastily rip my gaze away and whip my head forward, settling my wandering enlarged eyes on my hands. I hadn't realized I had clenched them into fists so tight they were white, and weaken my grip, sighing airily when I know there was no point to my hate – it wasn't like I was able to help those girls even if I wanted to. I was a slave, too, yet I know, deep in the pit of my stomach, that I was somehow different now.

While their master took pleasure in their pain, my new master did not even show signs of wishing to exert such extensive abuse. My master seemed to not be slightly interested in any of the things any normal master wanted – he hasn't eyed me the way the other masters have, hasn't touched me the way past masters did, hasn't hurt me… I begin to wonder if his unusual ways will continue, though, once we reach his home. I wonder if this is just an act he is using to gain my trust, like how one would act to gain the trust and familiarization of an animal before using them for unthinkable purposes. _An animal_, I think to myself, _I think it'd be better if I were one considering everyone already assumes I am one_.

A gust of wind sweeping the rain at an angle drags me from my thoughts as it allows the plump droplets to kiss my face while enabling the obsidian cloak just clinging to my shoulders to billow out behind me like a ship's flag. I glance up, watching in awe as the city gradually melts away into the dark green, sprawling hills of the countryside where houses were little and few in between and where there was only one road – the one we were on. The silence that had fallen upon Master and me was filled with the consistent thrum of the rain beating heavily against us, the storm clouds showing no signs of capitulation.

Master tugs us along the muddy roads, slowly altering his pace to match the horse's and to change his position from the front of the horse to the side where his shoulder was next to my leg. Even though he was still some distance away from me, my leg could feel the warmth emitting off of him, causing my brow to furrow slightly as I wonder if he may be falling ill. Before I can ask, though, he utters before me, "What do they call you?"

My eyes widen considerably as I am taken aback by his inquiry, not expecting anyone – my _master_, no less – to ask me that in a million years. I dumbly breathe out, "Huh?"

Master somewhat turns his head to peer at me better from behind his sagging bangs, amusement illuminating his eyes from my response as he chuckles, "What is your name?" He repeats; a little louder this time with a stressed pronunciation of every syllable.

"I…" I pause, not sure if I should tell him the name my mother had called me by all those years ago. I have learned that names are special thing, never to be given out as easily as people assume and earned harder than people would expect. I decide against doing so, feeling that somehow the meaning behind my name would diminish if I did, and instead mumble rather ashamedly, "They only called me 'slave'." I don't know why I said it that way, using that tone of voice while my insides coiled in protest. It wasn't like what I said was a lie – it was the truth. I was only known as 'slave' because that's what I was – what I am.

Fully turning his head to face me now, I find that Master's brows are quick to knit together while bewilderment swims within his onyx pools he uses to stare into my carob pair, "You were only known as 'slave'?"

I gulp, sneaking my tongue out to lick my lips as I fiddle anxiously with my fingers. _He deserves to at least know my name,_ I think to myself, _I mean, he did save me from being molested._ "Well," I begin, saying to Hell with it as I decide to tell him my name, "I was known as Lucy for a short while."

"Lucy…" Master breathes out, clicking his tongue lightly against the roof of his mouth in thought. It seems he decides that he likes it for when he returns his once somber gaze to me his eyes are alit with glee, "well, _Lucy_," he states firmly, "they call me Natsu."

I unconsciously nod my head when the name hit my ears. It was an exotic name that matched his exotic looks – I found that it oddly suited him. The corners of my mouth curl as I mutter, "Master N –"

"No," he sharply cuts me off, causing my smile to fall while raised brows take its place. "Just Natsu," he says, softer this time as he peers at me from the corner of his eye to see my reaction.

I huff, gazing oddly at him as I whisper mainly to myself, "_Natsu_."

A smirk breaks across his face and I feel one of my own dance along my lips, too, at the sight of his pleasure. His radiant smile left me feeling a feeling I haven't felt in a while - a feeling close to happiness - which sluggishly climbs its way through me, starting at the pit of my stomach. He then turns his full attention back to the road, maneuvering his body to be in front of the horse yet again. On impulse, I lurch forward to tug on his sleeve, feeling my cheeks burst into flames as he looks over his shoulder at me with a cocked brow, "Uh…" I mutter under my breath, clearly not thinking this through, "T-thank you… Mas – I mean, Natsu." On the inside, though, I was yelling, _w__hy did I do that?!_

The voice in my head is abruptly hushed by a grin that rivalled the brightness of the sun which spread across his face as he says to me, "You're welcome, Lucy."

**Author's Note:**

**I am trash, bUT TOO BAD! HOPE THAT WAS SATISFACTORY FOR YOUR BLOOD THIRSTY CRAVINGS! **

**Peace!**

**-idevourbooks**


End file.
